spillage.

i step over a crocodile in my kitchen to rinse yet another glass before cramming it into the dishwasher.  i wipe clean a countertop that can accumulate sticky even when i'm fairly positive that nothing sticky was touched.  i hear a cow moo at me as i walk past the refrigerator.  there's someone coughing in their room and the lights are dim and i'm trying to tiptoe through the house.

and i realize i can only contain these words for so long.  i try not to write when my husband is home.  i know.  that seems silly ... but we only get so much time together ... and i try not to stay awake late into the evenings when he is home merely because having someone warm to lie against is not too common in a pilot household. 

i kind of try to remember to cherish it.  when i can.

but there comes a time when the words and feelings have piled up so much inside of me that they are begging to spill forth. 

even though my pilot husband is still home ... he's since fallen asleep ... and the words are able to clippity clack out through my fingers.

i have no idea what will spill ... and i think that's ok.

during a late night nursing session i came across a "dislike" blog of a favorite blog of mine.  quite honestly i had no idea that these things even existed.  i'm baffled.  and it made my stomach turn. 

not because of who this person is ... but more that someone would feel strongly enough to write terrible things about them ... simply because of how they choose to write about their life.

i'm not sure that i can call myself a writer.  i write.  yes.  but ... i'm not a literary great by any means.  honestly.  these words pour out of my fingers and my pinkies rarely touch a shift key.  my words are often made up and silly sounding.  but they roll off my fingers simply.  and my mind empties.   and i don't feel so stuck inside.  i type late into the night when my littles are asleep ... rather than lie awake at  night feeling the words ... but having no place to put them. 

i would think that is why we are all here.  right?

to put these thoughts out of ourselves.  and yes.  comments and validation feel good.  but ... i think most of us would keep writing our words even if no one spoke back.

so why beat each other up over it?

so what if another person appears to be wildly imaginative and creative and blessed with beauty.
so what if another person appears to be complacent and calm in the wake of a event that would send most spinning out of control.
so what if a person forgets to capitalize or use punctuation or make up words.

they are writing to satisfy something within themself.  and there is room enough to do it.  if it doesn't directly affect you and who you are.  why care.  why not just keep doing what you love to do ... simply because you love to do it.  and let others do the same.

and in the most awful segue ever published on the internets ... stella turned seven.
amidst massive amounts of spraying water.
and maybe the only way to save that poor excuse for a segue is to say that there was this giant bucket that would fill itself with water and spill upon any one every so often.  (like my words.)
(and just for the record ... THAT attempt at making a cohesive post for you to read even kinda makes me gag.)

we surprised her with a trip to wisconsin dells ... a town with numerous waterparks.  and we stayed in a place that we have since deemed worth every penny.  {great wolf lodge} (which is so not even remotely aware - nor do they care - about who i am ... so i was in no way compensated for this glowing report).   it was easy and fun.  completely family friendly and we lived in our swimsuits for three days straight.  there was so much to do.  and we had a blast.  and the margaritas that were available on the way back to the room were delicious.  and blue.  and so.  good.  and we are pretty much screwed if we ever try to take the kids to any other hotel.  um.  ever. 

and while jeremy was off finding coffee (though it wasn't that hard.  starbucks coffee on the second floor!) cora and i slipped into bed with stellers and sang happy birthday. 

and she spent the next umpteen hours asking us how old she was.  and near noon-ish we all started to get a little crabby about this constant barrage of questioning OVER AND OVER and i remember hearing jeremy say ... "basically you are seven.  if anyone asks you ... you are seven.  for all intents and purposes you. are. seven.  blah blah blah blah ...

and then at 4:28 on 3/28 ... while dining in our new favorite restaurant {the cheese factory}.  (thank you alicia!)  she turned seven.  and we sang happy birthday.  and she hid her face and became embarrassed of all of us.  her crazy cake family.  and that's when i realized how close i am to raising a teenager. 

a tear spilled off my cheek as i remembered that hospital room.  and the people.  so. many. people.  and realizing later how close we were to losing one of us and just how lucky we were (and are).  and remembering daddy saying ... "it's stella."  and finally knowing who you were.  i carried you in a state of panic for 9-ish months ... never really knowing who you were.  and then i knew.  and i held you in my arms and felt empty when someone else would hold you ... and i couldn't believe you were there.

and now?  seriously?  seven?  that was seven years ago?

and then all hell broke loose and baby brother commenced must. terrorize. restaurant. NOW.  attitude.  and cora started her screaming.  and mommy had to drag baby boy blue out to the car while he screamed until he realized that he had full button pushing capability sitting on mommy's lap in the front seat waiting for daddy and big sisters to choose the cake and pay the bill. 

and i watched the window go up and down and up and down and up and down. 

and we drove home eventually.  and enjoyed (maybe?) a bit of time together ... and you had your best friend over for two nights and i took you out for a best friend photosession that i had so much fun doing.  and i'm fairly certain that you both enjoyed yourself as well. 

and i promise to write you your seven year old letter ... soon.  i meant to have it done before we left.  but didn't obviously.  and then i've been busy enjoying all this time with you ... and daddy has been here so i just haven't taken a moment to write.

though ... i promise.  i have the words in here.  ready to spill.  just as soon as i get another chance.

soon.

because i can only hold these words for so long ... before they must come spilling out through my fingers.